


Revelation

by RhysCross



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Jesse McCree Speaks Spanish, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Spanish Catholic McCree, repressing your feelings is unhealthy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-09 02:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13471812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhysCross/pseuds/RhysCross
Summary: Jesse was not a religious man. His mother went to church every morning, lit candles for the saints, and prayed for him under her breath, but he'd never taken to it the way she wanted him to. He'd had enough close calls with his own mortality to form his own relationship with whatever god might be out there, and that was enough for him.Then he met Hanzo Shimada, and learned entirely new definitions of damnation and salvation.





	1. Chapter 1

“I dunno, _mamá_. Just because Overwatch is under new management, don’t mean we ain’t settin’ ourselves up for the same problems. Freelancing has been good to me. I like gettin’ to pick my own jobs, and if things go south I can bow out quick and clean.” Jesse McCree stood at his mother’s kitchen table, diligently kneading dough for _empanadas_ as he spoke. He was entirely in his element in this kitchen; all of his favorite childhood memories revolved around this one room and it hadn’t changed much in the years since. From the dim bulb over the stove that cast the room in a friendly yellow glow to the small wooden table that bore the scuffs and scratches of frequent use, it all remained the same no matter how many times he left. A warm breeze blew through the window over the sink, carrying with it the scent of roast _chiles_ and street food, the smell of New Mexico in the summer.

His mother shot him the tiniest of frowns from where she stood at the counter, sleeves rolled to her elbows, stirring an enormous bowl of filling. “When was the last time you looked at the news, _mijo_? Your name is all over the Wanted lists! And don’t think I don’t notice the way you’re always looking over your shoulder! This isn’t the life your father and I wanted for you.”

Jesse groaned, “Aw Jesus, w-“

“Ay, _blasfemia_! Not in this house, Jesse McCree, I taught you better!” Her dark eyes flashed and she gestured threateningly at him with her spoon, crossing herself with her other hand.  

He ducked his head, grinning sheepishly, “ _Lo siento, mamá,_ but could you be any heavier handed with that guilt trip?  I was only askin’ what you thought.”

Anger faded to understanding, bordering on pity. “I only want you to be happy and I think Overwatch is your best chance. I know you have regrets, and you blame yourself for more than you tell me, but it is time that you stop running from your past and make amends.” She closed the short distance between them as she spoke, taking his cybernetic hand in both of hers and squeezing affectionately. “You could do so much good, _cariño,_ if only you would let yourself. And they were your family as much as I am, do not pretend you don’t miss them.”

Jesse swallowed hard before speaking, voice hoarse. “And what if it all goes wrong? I can’t go through that a second time.”

“ _Tengo fe._ ” She said, smiling serenely up at him. The laughter lines around her eyes were the only thing that betrayed her age. “And if your heart becomes tired, or you just miss your mother as much as she will miss you, you will always have a home here.”

xXx

Returning to Gibraltar was a real kick in the ass, if Jesse did say so himself. The old Watchpoint was just like he remembered but instead of finding that reassuring, it only served to set him more on edge. His mind kept slipping back into the past; sure he could smell Ana’s favorite tea when he wandered into the kitchen during the wee hours of the morning, unable to sleep, or positive that he’d just heard the echoes of Reyes’ laughter, only to turn his head and find no one there. They were ghosts now, and he was doing his best to move on, but he could see he wasn’t the only one being haunted.

It was apparent in the way Winston was throwing himself into plans for the new Overwatch, the responsibility of initiating the recall weighing heavily on him, or in the way that Angela held herself, stiff and brittle, as though the thought of losing another member would shatter her permanently. Even Lena’s smiles seemed forced at the edges.

In the weeks immediately following his arrival, McCree was subject to the worst case of emotional whiplash he’d ever experienced. One second, he’d be laughing around the breakfast table with Winston as Lena repeatedly blinked the porridge Torbjörn was attempting to eat back in time to its uncooked state. The next, he and Reinhardt were sitting side by side in the garden wistfully reminiscing about “the good ol’ days” over strong beer, right up until the point where the enormous German abandoned all pretense of stoicism and wrapped Jesse up in a hug that would probably leave a few bruised ribs. “I was not there to protect them.” he rumbled thickly, tears falling into his white beard, “I failed this family once. Never again.”

“Aw hell, big guy, it wasn’t your fault. Jack and Reyes made their own decisions, and everyone knows you’d never have left if the higher ups hadn’t forced you out.” McCree patted one massive bicep (the only part he could reach), comfortingly. “An’ we won’t make the same mistake, I can promise you that. Now how’s about you loosen your grip a mite? I’m startin’ to see stars.” He wheezed appreciatively when Reinhardt pulled away, rubbing at his sternum.

“Nothing brings me greater joy than to come home after all these years,” Reinhardt continued between deep breaths, attempting to pull himself together. “We were heroes, once! Such pride I have never known! I believe we can be heroes again, old friend. We can lead the new generation to glory!”

McCree chuckled, the sincerity of Reinhardt’s voice bringing back an echo of the enthusiasm he’d felt as a kid in Blackwatch, blindly believing Reyes when he told him that their particular brand of vigilante justice was the only way he could do some good in the world. He took another long pull from his beer, “I hope you’re right, _amigo_.” 

xXx

It was the arrival of the new recruits that finally pulled the veterans out of their collective melancholy. First to show was a tiny waif of a girl from South Korea. Hana Song couldn’t have been more than 120 pounds soaking wet, but what she lacked in size she made up for in her inability to give a single fuck. The huge mech helped, to be fair, but she was plenty formidable on her own.

He, Tracer, and Mercy were on reception duty, greeting her warmly and making formal introductions. Hana grinned when they got around to McCree, “Are you for real?”

“As real as they come, ma’am.” He tipped his hat in polite greeting.  

“A cyborg cowboy? Now I’ve seen everything.” She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of him without pausing her speech. “You know, most people only go for one gimmick at a time, but you’re really committing to this. I can respect that.”

“Now wait just a damn m-“ He began, outraged, but Mercy cut him off.

“If you’ll follow me, Miss Song, I can show you to your room and then perhaps schedule an appointment for a physical? Just to ensure you’re fit for duty, I’m sure you understand.” The doctor led her away and McCree was left glowering after them while Lena giggled beside him.

Jesse had much higher hopes for the second arrival of the day. Lúcio Correia dos Santos came with references, to say the least. All over the news as a freedom fighter from Brazil, he could safely assume this kid had some experience in the battlefield. You didn’t take down a corporation as large as Vishkar without talent and no small measure of luck and he was already picturing a younger version of Jack in his head.

As it turned out, he could not have been more wrong. Lúcio was possibly the nicest person Jesse had ever met in his life. Earnest and enthusiastic, whatever had gone down in Brazil had done nothing to dampen the young man’s idealism. Every new encounter seemed to thrill him more than the last and he seemed unable to repress his seemingly boundless energy.

“Man, I cannot tell you how stoked I am to be here. I cancelled the rest of my tour when I got the invite. Not that I don’t love my fans, and I really believe that bringing people together with music can make a difference, but this is the big leagues, you know? I grew up on stories about you guys!” He kept up his rapid fire commentary all the way from the helipad to the common room, egged on by Lena, who seemed thrilled to have not one, but two new members nearer to her age.

Even McCree had to admit he found their newest member endearing. It was impossible to dislike someone who so shared their joy, a rare commodity on base as of late, so freely with virtual strangers. He waved a farewell as Lúcio was ushered off in the direction of the dorms, grinning to himself.

A day later, Genji arrived with Zenyatta in tow. The excitement of their reunion with the team was short lived, however, when it became obvious that Genji had something pressing to discuss. The veteran members were summoned and met in the briefing room. Jesse could clearly recall getting a severe dressing-down from Reyes in this very room over several missions that had gone belly-up- through no fault of his own, he might add.

He was pulled out of his reverie by Winston clearing his throat. “Is everything alright? Nothing happened in Nepal that we should be worried about?”

“No, my apologies for worrying you all. This is a dilemma of a more personal nature.” Genji spoke slowly, as though picking his words with the utmost care. Zenyatta merely hovered serenely by his side, though he nodded encouragingly for his pupil to go on. “You are all familiar with my family history, you know how I came to inhabit this body, and you know that I was an angry and bitter man for many years. I do not like who I was back then, but it took time and the unwavering support of both my master, and you, my friends, for me to overcome my anger and build a future for myself.”

The table was silent as he took a breath to steady himself before continuing, “But just letting go of my anger was not enough. To truly move forward, I had to forgive the source of my suffering. My brother has been through much, he has punished himself further than I ever could, and I do not wish to see him inflict this self-imposed penance any longer. There is no one in this room without regrets, but you are living proof that past mistakes do not dictate who you become. I wish for Hanzo to join us, so that perhaps you may provide the same guidance and support that you gave me.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Surprisingly, it was Angela who broke the spell, “I cannot support this decision. Your brother has proven himself dangerous and is obviously unable to distinguish between friend and foe.”

Genji gave a metallic sigh, “I appreciate your concern Dr. Zeigler, but I believe my brother is a changed man. I, who have suffered most at his hands, am willing to trust him.”

“Tch,” McCree muttered, “Fairly sure Jesus said the same thing about Judas, look how that turned out.”

“Think of how hard we worked to get you to this point, Genji! Do you have any idea how many times you almost died on the table? And the months of physical therapy after, never mind your mental state! And you would put all that at risk for the man who tried to murder you?” Color was rising in Angela’s cheeks as she spoke, distress and anger warring on her face.

“No one would deny all you have done for Genji, Doctor.” Zenyatta finally spoke, tone as even and soothing as ever. “But this is something he feels he must do. Another step in treatment, if you will.”

“You would presume to tell me what is best for my patient?” She snapped, eyebrows climbing dangerously high on her forehead.

Genji changed tactics, then, appealing to their more practical natures. “We no longer have an experienced sniper on the team, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Wish I could, luv, believe me.” Piped up a small, sad voice.

The cyborg seemed to deflate at that, rubbing a hand over his visor tiredly. “My apologies, Lena. In my eagerness to be reunited with my brother I forgot that I am not the only one to experience loss.”

 Lena gave him a weak smile, “I would do anything to bring Amelie back. Anything. I can hardly blame you for wanting the same. I think we should give Hanzo a shot.”

With Lena’s support came Winston’s reluctant acquiescence. Torbjörn and Reinhardt were in agreement that this was a family matter and that the decision should rest with Genji. That left Angela and McCree as the only dissenting voices. Rather than continue the argument, the doctor stalked from the room, muttering darkly about lack of professional respect and senseless death wishes.

At the loss of his last ally McCree was forced to admit defeat, finally throwing up his hands in surrender. “Fine! Invite the man! What do I care? Might consider invitin’ Talon too, so long as we’re listing people who want us dead.”

His words held no real venom and Genji knew it. The happiness and relief in his voice was unmistakable, “Your support means the world to me, my friends. I am under no illusions that the road ahead will be an easy one, but with your help I believe my brother can find peace here.”  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Hanzo

Genji’s brother arrives without fanfare, or even much notice at all. It’s only when he sees Genji keeping company with a man he doesn’t recognize that Jesse puts it together.

Hanzo Shimada defied his expectations at every turn. He had anticipated an entitled sociopath; the type of guy so obsessed with the concept of “honor” that he was willing to turn his blade on his own family to defend it. Instead, he was faced with a quiet, unobtrusive man. Hanzo spoke little, never initiated conversation, and seemed content to avoid everyone but Genji whenever possible. It made Jesse sour to realize he might not be the cut and dry case he had planned on.

The new recruits were unfamiliar with the Shimada family history, and so they had no qualms about introducing themselves to Hanzo. He was polite, but not forthcoming, much to Lúcio and Hana’s frustration. The veteran members were more hesitant and varied in their interactions. Angela regarded him with thinly veiled contempt, only addressing with him whenever it was absolutely necessary. The rest had at least attempted to be civil, but it was difficult to warm up to him when they so rarely saw the man.

Two weeks had passed since Hanzo’s arrival, by McCree’s estimation, and the only evidence prove he existed at all were the occasional glimpse of the brothers going in or out of the practice rooms and rare accidental run-in in the mess hall. At first, Reinhardt and Lena had made a point to invite him to meals but after he had respectfully declined at least a dozen offers, they finally gave up.

“I’m starting to see what Genji meant,” Lena lamented over breakfast later that month, “it’s like he’s afraid of a little kindness!”  

Frankly, he reminded Jesse forcibly of the rest of the veterans; an old soldier who had seen too much and just wanted to rest. But here he was, willing to surround himself with strangers, who he must know had no warm feelings for him, in an effort to repair his relationship with his brother.

To his horror, Jesse found himself sympathizing with the man. Chiding himself internally, he shrugged at Lena, “Nothin’ we can do about that. Better to focus on getting the new recruits up to snuff before the live mission next month. We got a lot ridin’ on this.”

She stuck her tongue out and rolled her eyes dramatically, “As if I don’t know that! D’you think Hanzo will come to practice? Genji said he’d ask, and I think it’d be good for him to interact with other people for once.”

“When hell freezes over,” Jesse scoffed. “If that man shows up this afternoon, I’ll eat my hat.”

xXx

The Shimada brothers strode into the practice room at 2pm sharp, Genji looking loose and relaxed, Hanzo looking ready to bolt at the first sign of confrontation. Jesse kept his expression trained into one of polite recognition as he nodded in their direction, before whipping his head around to shoot Lena a look of complete bewilderment.

He wasn’t the only one surprised, if Winston’s raised eyebrows and Angela’s affronted scowl were anything to go by. For her part, Lena looked absolutely delighted, as did Lucio and Hana. Zenyatta seemed the only one to be entirely unperturbed by the whole scenario, he glided over to serenely greet his student before taking his place with the veterans to observe the new recruits.

Lena sidled up to Jesse’s side as Winston set Athena’s training parameters to an exercise that they’d run at least a hundred times in the old days. Something that the old guard would be intimately familiar with, which would allow them to focus their attentions more closely on the younger members.

“So, are you gonna eat it cooked, or straight off your head?” She muttered in his ear, gesturing vaguely to his hat.

“Fuck off, Oxton.” He hissed back, failing to entirely suppress a grin of amusement. Then the simulation was starting and they were forced to fall into position, ready to step in if things started to break bad.

As it turned out, they needn’t have worried.

Lucio was an artist with his audio equipment, somehow everywhere at once, switching effortlessly between a fast paced beat that sent the urge to move creeping through Jesse’s limbs, to a softer, more relaxed melody that lifted his heart and soothed the aches in his joints that had become more persistent with age. The Brazilian rallied the team at crucial moments throughout the simulation, both through his music and shouted words of encouragement, before expertly retreating to a safe distance until he was needed again.

Hana was a powerhouse, taking and dealing damage in equal measure. Her mech not only provided her ludicrous amount of staying power, but allowed her to shield her allies. On more than one occasion, Lucio or Genji had been cornered until Hana had literally charged _into_ their attackers, shields absorbing the brunt of the damage before she released a volley of missiles of her own, cackling madly all the while.

Hanzo was an absolute terror with his bow. Somehow, he’d climbed into the rafters of the practice room and from this vantage point he’d been able to snipe anything trying to flank the team with deadly accuracy. Quickly, Jesse realized: Hanzo. Did. Not. Miss. Under his watch, nothing got within striking distance of their back line.

Then Genji got involved, and they became even more terrifying as a team. Genji would engage a group, using his super-human speed and agility to whittle them down and lead them into Hanzo’s line of sight. Hanzo would rapidly pick off the rest while Genji darted away to start the process over again. It was obvious they’d done this before, their unspoken synchronization was a dead giveaway, but the results were no less impressive for it.

Finally, the simulation ended. They corralled the new members to congratulate them and point out areas of improvement although, in Jesse’s opinion, they were miles ahead of where they’d dared to hope. Lucio and Hana were sweating and their breathing was somewhat labored, but they looked so proud of themselves that Jesse couldn’t help but grin at them. His smile fell, however, as he realized Hanzo was nowhere in sight. He met Genji’s eyes and the younger Shimada shook his head almost imperceptibly, in a gesture he assumed meant that he shouldn’t worry about it. He resisted the instinct to press the issue, instead allowing himself to be absorbed by Lena’s dramatic reenactments of some of the more impressive maneuvers of the afternoon.

  xXx

That evening, Jesse secluded himself behind one of the outbuildings, an old munitions hangar, with a fresh pack of cigarillos and his ancient six-string. He’d found this spot during the first incarnation of Overwatch, and it hadn’t changed much since. The building backed onto a ledge that looked over the ocean, making it difficult to sneak up on. Faintly, he could hear the steady rhythm of the waves crashing onto the cliffs below, and it soothed him now as it had then. It was also one of the few places at the Watchpoint that he could smoke without the fear that Angela would swoop down on him like an angel of wrath.

He settled on the ground, back against the wall of the hangar, and lit a cigarillo. Taking a long, slow pull, he closed his eyes and tried to sort out the muddle of thoughts that had plagued him since the training exercise.

Hanzo presented an incredibly frustrating conundrum: The way he fought, it was obvious he would fit seamlessly into the team. He had watched their backs, relentless in his defense of their weak points. Yet, off the battlefield, he was so walled off, so distant that Jesse doubted Hanzo even realized how naturally protection came to him. Maybe it was his way of atonement? If he could prevent harm now, it would cancel out the pain he’d caused earlier in life? That was a type of arithmetic that Jesse could understand all too well, but he couldn’t very well confront him about it. They needed a way to convince Hanzo to commit to the new Overwatch without evoking any sort of human emotion that would provoke the archer to bolt. This seemed unlikely.

Sighing, Jesse began to strum absently at the guitar in his lap, stringing together random notes as he turned over the problem in his head until he stumbled upon the opening lines of a song his mother loved to remind him was a “classic”. He smiled at the thought of her, troubled thoughts forgotten briefly. Chasing the melody, he began to sing in a soft, low voice as the waves below kept time.

 xXx

Several stories above, tucked into the shadows of the satellites on the roof of the hangar, perched Hanzo. He hadn’t come here seeking McCree’s (he was fairly sure that’s what Genji had called him) presence, he simply liked the view and the solitude. When he realized he wasn’t alone, he’d almost retreated to his room. Then the breeze picked up, carrying the gruff lilt of the cowboy’s singing backed by the soft hum of the guitar, and he hesitated.

He didn’t recognize the song, but the tune was soft and sweet with a hint of melancholy. He felt himself straining his ears to listen in spite of himself, surprised by an emotional depth to the voice that he wouldn’t have given McCree credit for. Finally relenting to this private indulgence, Hanzo leaned against the satellite supports, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to relax for just this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how much everyone's support and enthusiasm has meant to me as I've started work in this fic. I'm going to attempt to keep to a bi-weekly update schedule, which seems more realistic than a weekly schedule when I factor in how much time work and school have been taking up this semester. Thanks again for reading, I hope you enjoy.   
> As before, this hasn't been beta-ed so if you notice any glaring mistakes feel free to drop me a line.

**Author's Note:**

> If my spanish is off or clunky, I apologize. I didn't want to ask my abuela to proofread my gay fanfiction, so any corrections would be appreciated!


End file.
